~ Wife. Mother. Skeptic. Atheist. Smartass.

Operation Catch and Release – Part 2

When mom arrived at the hotel, she was reserved but not angry. Matter of fact. She didn’t overwhelm me with any strong emotion. She hugged me but didn’t fuss over me too much. Most important was she wasn’t angry or accusatory at all. I cried a lot, I remember that. She cried a little, but mostly was just a calm presence. She also called the Players, and the next day she flew herself, Jordan and I to Virginia to meet up with his parents. Again, something Jordan tried to spin to his advantage, while I mostly just rode alongside.

By now, I had been numbly riding shotgun for multiple flights.

To say it was awkward is a tremendous understatement. Jordan’s parents were much more demonstrative. Once we were together, all the parents had lots of questions. I don’t remember this part all that well; it’s more a series of impressions. I honestly think I was in shock. The thing I remember most clearly was when Jordan’s mother asked asking what we wanted. She so clearly meant “how can we help you right now,” but Jordan started extrapolating about his next grand plan, about getting a house and starting our own business. I was floored, because it was such a grossly inappropriate way to respond.

He's very good at the grossly inappropriate response, actually.

The Players had a timeshare in Williamsburg and were nice enough to set Mom and I up there for a week; Jordan alternated staying with us and his family. It was stiff and awkward, and mostly a blur. I do remember that it was the week Anna Nicole Smith died, so we spent a fair amount of time watching entertainment news. Its strange, the scraps I remember. At the end of the week Mom made me an offer: she would help me get set up in an apartment in Virginia with Jordan, if I would come home with her for one month and go to a therapist with her. This seemed entirely reasonable to me, although Jordan sulked terribly. He would be staying with his parents for the month, and he wasn’t grateful at all. But it wasn’t any choice; I had no desire to be homeless and destitute in a completely unfamiliar town.

Sure, there's a lot of cosplay. But I don't think Fiona would fit in.

Boo stayed with Jordan and I left with my mother. I remember how my heart sank as we drove back to the same house I’d lived in during high school. I felt like I had failed at life. Once again I felt like Dorothy returned to Kansas; everything in life was as gray as the sky. My parents welcomed me home gently. I had my own room back. And for the first time in years, I didn’t feel completely consumed with anxiety.

I slept a lot the first few days.

Since I was only going to be there for a month, I was seeing a therapist two or three times a week. This seemed reasonable enough. I was as honest with the therapist as I dared do be, which meant I was actually lying a lot. It sounds like a contradiction in terms but it really isn’t. I told him as much about my life as possible, but I couldn’t tell him how many of the “people” I told him about were Others that I only spoke to through my partner. He worked with me on my anxiety, which I admitted was crippling at that point, and helped me start to trust my mother again. I was starting to see that I had gotten “carried away” with my memories, that they weren’t completely accurate after all. I was facing the fears that had kept me prisoner, even as I defended my prison.

The worm hadn't turned yet, but change was coming.

Those early sessions, and much of that trip home, remain kind of a blur. I had been driven so hard for so long that I didn’t really know how to deal with actual leisure time. Mom took a good chunk of time off from work to spend with me, but often I was alone. I hadn’t been alone in years either. The funny thing was, in the middle of the awkward half-honest therapy and long days watching horror movies with my stepdad, Mom had a business trip to Manhattan. Rather than leave me for three days, she cashed in some frequent flier miles and brought me along.

Is this ironic, given my failed attempt at immigrating two weeks earlier?

There was something kind of real-world magical about that almost-vacation in the middle of those weeks reconnecting. I spent the days exploring Manhattan while she went to conferences. In the afternoon and evening we went places together: the Metropolitan Museum of Art (which I’d wanted to visit ever since I read From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler when I was nine), the Museum of National History, Ellis Island. We met up with friends we’ve known since I was in Kindergarten (one of whom lived in town), and even caught a showing of Wicked at the Gershwin Theater. It was so much fun.

I can't remember a time when these people weren't in my life, aside from when I tried to kick them out of it.

Meanwhile, Jordan made it clear that he was totally miserable, and did his best to make me miserable too during his nightly phone calls. We were only allowed to talk once a day, for no more than an hour, under the banner of “long distance charges.” We also wrote letters; every day or two I’d get a fat packet of missives and cards from multiple Others. There were multiple attacks in those letters; some were filled with rage, others with longing, still others with hope and excitement for the future. Mostly, in all his correspondence, there was complaints about the Players. When he found out I would be spending a few days in Manhattan, taking an actual vacation, he made a desperate attempt to ruin my trip. He posted his massive apology.

The reason it didn't seem sincere? It wasn't. It was just to get everyone talking again.

That entire post was made up of the carefully screened lie that Jordan had based our “new” life on. He knew that I lived in tremendous fear of the online gossip and that few things could throw me into a panic attack faster than to agitate that community. It was a gesture that was transparent to me, even though I was still fully enmeshed in his mythology. I was disgusted and annoyed, particularly that he had spoken so freely for me. For the first time I really bristled against the way he was behaving. I knew I was being punished, and I didn’t think I deserved it.

Wait, I can have fun and travel and enjoy life without Jordan? Talk about liberty!

The month stretched into five weeks, and I was becoming comfortable and almost relaxed. I had even begun to question things with Jordan. Things he had said about my mother and my upbringing were provably false. A few times I wondered to myself if maybe things weren’t pretty bad with him. I didn’t have any anxiety at all, until the mail came, or the phone rang. During the hour before our nightly call I would become more and more distressed, until the moment the phone sent my heart racing. It was awful, and it was impossible not to notice. At the same time I missed him desperately; I didn’t know what to do with myself, and I worried constantly about what might be happening to the Others, and how I would be punished for my absence. I think there was more fear than affection by then.

I wasn't as innocent as a child, but he was definitely a snake.

Finally, Mom couldn’t extend things anymore. She asked if I’d like her to come with me for the first week back in Virginia. I thanked her, so grateful that I wouldn’t have to do it alone, not realizing that going back with me was also part of her master plan. All that research she’d done, all the planning and saving; she’d thought of just about everything. That’s where the name of this post came from; she called the entire endeavor “Operation Catch and Release.” In my world, Jordan had gotten a job in my absence, but (very tellingly) was fired the week before I returned. Mom and I flew back, staying in the same timeshare the Players had lent us before. When we pulled up in our rental car, Jordan ran out to meet me. And I felt sick.

That's what I've been pining for?

I honestly winced when he came toward me. He hugged me and was talking to me, and all I could think was get your hands off of me. I felt physically ill in his presence. He noticed, too, and I spent a lot of that evening having to deal with how badly my reaction had “hurt him.” I was welcomed back, punished, lectured, and all in all, didn’t feel happier to be with him again. He also put a tremendous amount of pressure on me to find a job. He had set us up to look at several apartments, and I’d pre-arranged a handful of job interviews. All along, he was telling the same casual lies, to me and to everyone else. Like when he said to a prospective apartment manager that we had paid off the eviction that he’d caused. An inarguable lie, one that he spent hours justifying later.

Guess who got to take long, late-night walks again?

Jordan tried to just move in with us at the condo, which I was no more comfortable with than anyone else. I felt very ill at ease, and everything seemed so over-dramatic and unnecessarily complex. I didn’t want to spend half the night talking to Others. I didn’t want to frantically patch things up, or go for long walks, or get nagged to find a job. I was so tired of it all, and I hated the way Jordan treated my mother, who had been nothing but patient and kind with him. I loathed the way he would sob, loud and wailing, making sure Mom overheard and then later criticizing her (to me) for not coming to “check” on him. I was relieved when his parents made him go back to their house.

This wasn't the beautiful reunion I'd been promised.

Mom drove me around to my various interviews. At some point, a couple of days before my mother was flying back home, I just broke down. I could not take it any longer. For the first time, I had been willing to see Jordan as he was, and having the blinders off I couldn’t pretend he wasn’t outright, baldface lying to people. I couldn’t even care right then if I believed or didn’t believe in the “Mindhole” anymore. I just knew I couldn’t spend one more day in his presence. I asked her if I could just come home for good. She called the airport and reserved my ticket from the car.

So I'd be Leeeeeeeeea-viiin, ooooonnnn a jet plaaaaaane!

Actually saying I was leaving was hellish. We met him at his parents’ house; my mother had called them so they would be prepared for what was coming. Part of the conversation was in private, where there was a brief, brutal onslaught of Others, pleading, condemning, cursing, crying. I couldn’t be alone with him any longer; I came out to where our parents were. I told him I just…couldn’t. He kept asking me, “You can’t what?” over and over, trying every possible way to get to give him a reason he could deconstruct, or a person to blame. I couldn’t. He became more and more heated. I remember all our parents moving as one, his to stand on either side of him as my mother gently took my arm. I needed her to help me walk away; I could not turn from his pleading eyes. She guided me to the car as Jordan began to scream; that same hideous, chilling, keening wail that he terrorized all of us with in the cult. Now no longer the howl of some supernatural anguish, but that of a thwarted, monstrous child. I got into the car and Mom drove us the hell away from there.

I could hear the screams all the way down the street.

Our flight wasn’t until the next day, and it wasn’t even noon yet. We decided to walk around Colonial Williamsburg for a few hours. It was incredible; I felt dizzy with my freedom. We walked around, sometimes laughing, sometimes crying. Mostly I felt like a tremendous weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I couldn’t believe that I could just let go. I wasn’t responsible for the fate of worlds anymore. It is funny that we spent that day there, because for as long as I can remember, my mother has collected things from Colonial Williamsburg. She has an extensive collection of beautiful miniature houses, and it was so much fun to finally see the buildings I’d seen on her shelves since childhood.

Mom joked, "I don't know if I'm here, or if I'm on my mantlepiece and I'm two inches tall."

On our way back to the car, I picked up a pebble. It’s always been a habit to pick up small stones and other talismans when something important happens to me. I still have that stone, picked up the day I got free. I hold it sometimes, after I’ve had nightmares; I don’t want to admit how often I still have them. I hold it and remember that I am still alive. I hold it and remember that I never have to be that person again.

Abbey–I’m so glad you’re writing this. And that I can actually read it now, having read your private letters and recognizing that this is real, sincere, and heartfelt stuff.

I wish that I’d been able to see things more clearly when this was all happening. I wish I could have recognized that you were as much a victim as I was. I didn’t see it. I made assumptions about you that were incorrect.

I had reason to make those assumptions. Your behavior was virtually indistinguishable from “Jordan’s” and you were defending “Jordan” on all fronts. I truly believed the two of you were 100% in cahoots together, that this was a joint effort to create chaos and stalk movie stars on BOTH your parts.

I wish I could have found it in my heart at THAT time to treat you with so much as a grain of salt. I wish I could have considered the chance that you were also a victim. I knew Little Sam had been fooled; I knew Di had been fooled. But I assumed you were fully cognizant of what was going on.

I’m sorry for that, Abbey. I really am.

I wish I could have reached out to you in a way that helped you break out. I wish I could have seen that you needed to break out, just as badly as I’d needed to break out (and did), or Sue had needed to break out (and did). I didn’t see you in my mind as a fellow human in trouble, and that was wrong.

Again, all I can say is I’m sorry. I’m sorry my rage was so great that I couldn’t even allow for the possibility that you were also in the deep shit.

Having just written that… You and I both know that you deliberately lied to me about “Jordan’s” true identity. That was another reason to believe that the Long Con was a joint effort. It was another thing that convinced me you were a crook, not a victim.

I guess my point is that I can explain my actions. It doesn’t excuse them, but it explains why all that vindictiveness landed on your head. I hope that brings you a sense of, oh, IDK what to call it exactly–relief, maybe? Because if you understand my reasons for going all Klingon Tsunami on you, then maybe it will also make sense that, now that those reasons no longer apply, the tsunami has washed back out to sea.

I feel a real sense of relief after reading your blog, because I feel like I understand your reasons. OK, you lied, you sided with a liar, etc. Those things cannot be excused, per se, but they can be explained. You had been indoctrinated into a cult, manipulated with TEXTBOOK techniques by a sick fucking bastard. Not an excuse, but an explanation–and a valid, legitimate one at that.

I’m SO GLAD to know that my initial impressions of you–that you were a decent human being at heart–were spot on. I’m SO GLAD to see that although you faltered at being the Real Abbey, you’ve come back to yourself.

What’s done is done. I can say from the bottom of my heart, though, Abbey, that I wish I could have done better. You and Di were, and are, worth better than what you got from me. Fact. If I was Ghandi, or Jesus, or the Dalai Lama, I would have seen it at the time. But I’m just me, and I didn’t have it in me to give you that much compassion.

That is an awesome thing to put here, Jeanine. Maybe, finally, after all this time, Jordan’s powers are finally waning. All that poison he put out there is getting out of everyone’s systems. It’s good to see and experience.

Jeanine, Abbey, for all the years I have been following this saga, I never would have imagined I would one day see so much grownup behavior from it. So much taking of responsibility, apologizing, facing mistakes, and striving to make amends. Both of you should get a gold star or something.

Jeanine, although I have nothing to do with this particular situation between you two, Abbey is one of my dearest and longest friends, and it hurt me to hear you say all those horrible things about her. However, it warms my heart to see you finally recognize that she is a scarred, yet amazing person, and offer apologies for wrongs done. Thank you for that.

OK, I totally teared up from that! This is why we don’t read this stuff at work! :p
Seriously, though, I for one am loving this whole thing coming full circle and the healing that’s taking place. I always was a sucker for a love fest! ❤

Wow. Just wow. I don’t know where to start. First of all, you are a very strong woman, but I always knew that. You really are a leader. Someone people DO actually look up to, and I know that you DO care about people. And I have the utmost respect and admiration for your mother. I hope I can be that wise someday. And Jeanine, you just about have me in tears. God, I think we’ve all needed this for a long, long time.

This two parter was so moving. I am totally hooked on your blog, btw. Sorry I haven’t been commenting, I am usually on my phone and sometimes am kind of speechless except for wanting to say “more!” I’m so glad that you are writing about all of this. You are so strong. <3333

I can’t tell you how happy I am to know that so much forgiveness and healing has transpired here. I admire both Abbey and Jeanine greatly for being able to do this, and to own up to past mistakes. It’s actually quite inspiring. 🙂

What a journey we’ve all been on. I lay down my mother rage and replace it with deep gratitude and awe that sometimes the human experience brings us to a higher place. Jeanine, thank you for your message. None of us will ever be the same…we are ALL so much greater and better. It took me a long time to read this, and I’m so glad I did. Group hug. Women really do rock!

Hi, Penny. Wow. It’s a year and a half since you wrote that, but this is my first time reading it. I thank YOU for laying down the mother rage. That took a lot of generosity of spirit, to say it and to do it, and I wish I’d been able to read this and acknowledge it sooner. And we most certainly rock, roll, and make the world go around.

I am incredibly impressed. My ex-partner about 6 years ago was in LoTR fandom and told me about the “Bit of Earth” drama. I’ve followed the fandom-wank stuff on and off over the years, and was recently re-alerted to it by the Daily Dot articles on the similarities between Scientology and the kind of “past-life therapy” stuff that Jordan was pulling on you. (I follow Scientology gossip because I am fascinated by mind control cults and techniques of all kinds.)

I have a close friend who really does have DID (aka multiple personality), and the idea of this troll using “Others” to manipulate you and grind you to nothingness makes my blood boil. So happy to hear that you got out and got your life together; so happy that you’ve even started patching things up with Jeanine. It gives me hope for happy endings.

Are you familiar with that one guy who claims to be Neo from The Matrix? A VERY similar story, from what I can tell, to what Jordan gets up to. Except that his “Trinity” is still with him and propping up his fantasy life, sad to say. Neo is actually also FTM himself, although I don’t want to speculate about the significance of that very much. But anyway, the point is, you’re not alone.

Thanks! I know many trans individuals, and a lot of them went through phases where they were deceptive, lost or had difficulty discovering their own identities, etc. It does NOT mean trans = deceptive. But it does correlate, and shows the need people struggling with gender/identity need support and acceptance. Its a hard road no matter what.

In Andy’s case, there are many confounding mental issues. I think him being trans is part of his issues, but ultimately low in importance.

Yeah, actually, she is. And we’ve been married for a decade now, as “sad” as that is in this era of 50% divorce rates and pay-to-fuck websites.

Who are you, and what justification do you have for “calling someone out” on being trans, not trans, or whatever? That’s a pretty shitty, gossipy thing to do. And regardless, there’s a big difference between trying to do a good thing, and just using people in general. Thanks for this.

Wow. This is probably the best thing I have read on the internet in years. Possibly ever.

I’ve been following this saga for years. Fell into it before the events in this post took place. I know at the time you were still being painted as the villain and I don’t think you guys had popped up on the radar in LA yet. I’ve always been semi fascinated/rubbernecking this whole thing because I know *EXACTLY* how stuff like this gets started. While I have never personally come across Amy/Andy/Jordan/etc… he’s been on the fringes of a few fandoms I’ve been involved in, though we moved in completely different circles (I’m too much of a canon snob). But you get deep enough into just about ANY fandom and someone like him will always turn up. Most likely never to the extent that he has been able to pull, but I very much recognize the type, though he has a spectacularly scary quality to him. I’ve had run ins with someone who sounds very similar and always felt like such a fool for getting taken in when I saw EXACTLY who she was when I first met her. Somehow reading your side shifted my view on this and took this from a bit of rubbernecking at some fandom wank I wasn’t involved in, to: “Well shit. This sounds eerily familiar.”

Reading this I think should be a premier to internet/fandom/geek culture. You have written the point blank reality of exactly how nefarious fandom can be, as only someone who has been through the deep hells it could tell. Especially when you have let them in your real life. Somehow it feels like when we get past that first meeting offline, you drop your guards, like “Well, the face matches the picture, that’s good enough for me!” As hard/therapeutic as this was for you, this post goes beyond you and beyond those that Jordan has hurt, because it is such a great descriptor of the problems someone like him posses and how to help those who might be getting too deep (your mother is my hero btw).

Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I think that beyond your own personal reasons for writing this, this will serve such a bigger purpose than you know. We seem to run a little in the same online circles (Dr. Amy FTW!) and felt like I should let you know how much your story affected me in case we crossed paths outside the world of fandom

I’ve only read the past four posts, from the first part of this post to now, and I just want to both admire you and thank you for reminding me how glorious freedom can be.
Back in 1995, I walked away from a situation that was similar to yours in many ways (and feeling), though my ex did not have the Internet to play with to expand his cult the way he really wanted to. I had wonderful parents who similarly planned their response to my saying I wanted to leave (my father, when I called them, offered to be at my apartment in four hours with a U-Haul trailer — I had to ask for a couple of days because I didn’t want to leave my temp job in the lurch), and I had some marvelous friends who took time off work to help me pack (and circle the wagons around me to keep my ex from pecking at me the whole time I was packing).
When I crossed the city line in my box-loaded car, REM’s “The End of the World As We Know It” started playing on the radio.
I laughed and laughed and laughed.

I read from Part 1 to this (like the responder above me) and was crying by the end. While my situation thankfully wasn’t as… this as yours was, there but for the grace of god, as they say. Congratulations to you and to your mother and your life on the other side.

The Nostalgia Chick
Not surprisngly, the Nostalgia Chick goes more in depth than the Critic (who swears more, which is a point in his favor). Man, I’m glad someone else remembers Jem and the Holograms.

The Nostalgia Critic
Great mashup reviews of stuff from childhood. Because the 80’s were SOOOOOOOOO long ago…

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Abigail is married to a mad scientist and spawned a smart, funny, beautiful boy who is currently two. She has a degree in Psychology that she doesn't use, a minor in Gender Studies that she sometimes uses, and a rapier wit that she always uses. Geeky, nerdy, irreverent, smart, funny and always weird.